The Court objects for two reasons. First, because the Court don'tthink it fair. Secondly, because the dear old lady, Mrs Court (if Iam Mr) gets distressed by it.'

A very remarkable wavering between two bearings--between herpropitiatory bearing there, and her defiant bearing at MrTwemlow's--was observable on the part of Mrs Lammle as shesaid:

'What does the Court not consider fair?'

'Letting you go on,' replied Mr Boffin, nodding his headsoothingly, as who should say, We won't be harder on you than wecan help; we'll make the best of it. 'It's not above-board and it's notfair. When the old lady is uncomfortable, there's sure to be goodreason for it. I see she is uncomfortable, and I plainly see this isthe good reason wherefore. HAVE you breakfasted, ma'am.'

Mrs Lammle, settling into her defiant manner, pushed her plateaway, looked at her husband, and laughed; but by no means gaily.

He spilled a little of it over the chest which ought to have been soeffective, and which had done so little; but on the whole drank itwith something of an air, though the coming and going dints gotalmost as large, the while, as if they had been made by pressure ofthe teaspoon. 'A thousand thanks,' he then observed. 'I havebreakfasted.'

'Now, which,' said Mr Boffin softly, taking out a pocket-book,'which of you two is Cashier?'

'Sophronia, my dear,' remarked her husband, as he leaned back inhis chair, waving his right hand towards her, while he hung his lefthand by the thumb in the arm-hole of his waistcoat: 'it shall beyour department.'

'I would rather,' said Mr Boffin, 'that it was your husband's,ma'am, because--but never mind, because. I would rather have todo with him. However, what I have to say, I will say with as littleoffence as possible; if I can say it without any, I shall be heartilyglad. You two have done me a service, a very great service, indoing what you did (my old lady knows what it was), and I haveput into this envelope a bank note for a hundred pound. I considerthe service well worth a hundred pound, and I am well pleased topay the money. Would you do me the favour to take it, andlikewise to accept my thanks?'

With a haughty action, and without looking towards him, MrsLammle held out her left hand, and into it Mr Boffin put the littlepacket. When she had conveyed it to her bosom, Mr Lammle hadthe appearance of feeling relieved, and breathing more freely, asnot having been quite certain that the hundred pounds were his,until the note had been safely transferred out of Mr Boffin'skeeping into his own Sophronia's.

'It is not impossible,' said Mr Boffin, addressing Alfred, 'that youhave had some general idea, sir, of replacing Rokesmith, in courseof time?'

'It is not,' assented Alfred, with a glittering smile and a great dealof nose, 'not impossible.'

'And perhaps, ma'am,' pursued Mr Boffin, addressing Sophronia,'you have been so kind as to take up my old lady in your own mind,and to do her the honour of turning the question over whether youmightn't one of these days have her in charge, like? Whether youmightn't be a sort of Miss Bella Wilfer to her, and somethingmore?'

'I should hope,' returned Mrs Lammle, with a scornful look and ina loud voice, 'that if I were anything to your wife, sir, I couldhardly fail to be something more than Miss Bella Wilfer, as youcall her.'

'What do YOU call her, ma'am?' asked Mr Boffin.

Mrs Lammle disdained to reply, and sat defiantly beating one footon the ground.

'Again I think I may say, that's not impossible. Is it, sir?' asked MrBoffin, turning to Alfred.

'No,' said Mr Boffin, with his voice still dropped, 'it really won't.You positively must excuse us. If you'll go your way, we'll goours, and so I hope this affair ends to the satisfaction of all parties.'

Mrs Lammle gave him the look of a decidedly dissatisfied partydemanding exemption from the category; but said nothing.

'The best thing we can make of the affair,' said Mr Boffin, 'is amatter of business, and as a matter of business it's brought to aconclusion. You have done me a great service, a very greatservice, and I have paid for it. Is there any objection to the price?'

Mr and Mrs Lammle looked at one another across the table, butneither could say that there was. Mr Lammle shrugged hisshoulders, and Mrs Lammle sat rigid.

'Very good,' said Mr Boffin. 'We hope (my old lady and me) thatyou'll give us credit for taking the plainest and honestest short-cutthat could be taken under the circumstances. We have talked itover with a deal of care (my old lady and me), and we have feltthat at all to lead you on, or even at all to let you go on of your ownselves, wouldn't be the right thing. So, I have openly given you tounderstand that--' Mr Boffin sought for a new turn of speech, butcould find none so expressive as his former one, repeated in aconfidential tone, '--that it won't do. If I could have put the casemore pleasantly I would; but I hope I haven't put it veryunpleasantly; at all events I haven't meant to. So,' said Mr Boffin,by way of peroration, 'wishing you well in the way you go, we nowconclude with the observation that perhaps you'll go it.'

Mr Lammle rose with an impudent laugh on his side of the table,and Mrs Lammle rose with a disdainful frown on hers. At thismoment a hasty foot was heard on the staircase, and GeorgianaPodsnap broke into the room, unannounced and in tears.

'Oh, my dear Sophronia,' cried Georgiana, wringing her hands asshe ran up to embrace her, 'to think that you and Alfred should beruined! Oh, my poor dear Sophronia, to think that you should havehad a Sale at your house after all your kindness to me! Oh, Mr andMrs Boffin, pray forgive me for this intrusion, but you don't knowhow fond I was of Sophronia when Pa wouldn't let me go there anymore, or what I have felt for Sophronia since I heard from Ma ofher having been brought low in the world. You don't, you can't,you never can, think, how I have lain awake at night and cried formy good Sophronia, my first and only friend!'

Mrs Lammle's manner changed under the poor silly girl'sembraces, and she turned extremely pale: directing one appealinglook, first to Mrs Boffin, and then to Mr Boffin. Both understoodher instantly, with a more delicate subtlety than much bettereducated people, whose perception came less directly from theheart, could have brought to bear upon the case.

'I haven't a minute,' said poor little Georgiana, 'to stay. I am outshopping early with Ma, and I said I had a headache and got Ma toleave me outside in the phaeton, in Piccadilly, and ran round toSackville Street, and heard that Sophronia was here, and then Macame to see, oh such a dreadful old stony woman from the countryin a turban in Portland Place, and I said I wouldn't go up with Mabut would drive round and leave cards for the Boffins, which istaking a liberty with the name; but oh my goodness I amdistracted, and the phaeton's at the door, and what would Pa say ifhe knew it!'

'Don't ye be timid, my dear,' said Mrs Boffin. 'You came in to seeus.'

'Oh, no, I didn't,' cried Georgiana. 'It's very impolite, I know, but Icame to see my poor Sophronia, my only friend. Oh! how I felt theseparation, my dear Sophronia, before I knew you were broughtlow in the world, and how much more I feel it now!'

There were actually tears in the bold woman's eyes, as the soft-headed and soft-hearted girl twined her arms about her neck.

'But I've come on business,' said Georgiana, sobbing and dryingher face, and then searching in a little reticule, 'and if I don'tdespatch it I shall have come for nothing, and oh good gracious!what would Pa say if he knew of Sackville Street, and what wouldMa say if she was kept waiting on the doorsteps of that dreadfulturban, and there never were such pawing horses as ours unsettlingmy mind every moment more and more when I want more mindthan I have got, by pawing up Mr Boffin's street where they haveno business to be. Oh! where is, where is it? Oh! I can't find it!'All this time sobbing, and searching in the little reticule.

'What do you miss, my dear?' asked Mr Boffin, stepping forward.

'Oh! it's little enough,' replied Georgiana, 'because Ma alwaystreats me as if I was in the nursery (I am sure I wish I was!), but Ihardly ever spend it and it has mounted up to fifteen pounds,Sophronia, and I hope three five-pound notes are better thannothing, though so little, so little! And now I have found that--oh,my goodness! there's the other gone next! Oh no, it isn't, here it is!'

With that, always sobbing and searching in the reticule, Georgianaproduced a necklace.

'Ma says chits and jewels have no business together,' pursuedGeorgiana, 'and that's the reason why I have no trinkets except this,but I suppose my aunt Hawkinson was of a different opinion,because she left me this, though I used to think she might just aswell have buried it, for it's always kept in jewellers' cotton.However, here it is, I am thankful to say, and of use at last, andyou'll sell it, dear Sophronia, and buy things with it.'

'Give it to me,' said Mr Boffin, gently taking it. 'I'll see that it'sproperly disposed of.'

'Oh! are you such a friend of Sophronia's, Mr Boffin?' criedGeorgiana. 'Oh, how good of you! Oh, my gracious! there wassomething else, and it's gone out of my head! Oh no, it isn't, Iremember what it was. My grandmamma's property, that'll cometo me when I am of age, Mr Boffin, will be all my own, and neitherPa nor Ma nor anybody else will have any control over it, and whatI wish to do it so make some of it over somehow to Sophronia andAlfred, by signing something somewhere that'll prevail onsomebody to advance them something. I want them to havesomething handsome to bring them up in the world again. Oh, mygoodness me! Being such a friend of my dear Sophronia's, youwon't refuse me, will you?'

'No, no,' said Mr Boffin, 'it shall be seen to.'

'Oh, thank you, thank you!' cried Georgiana. 'If my maid had alittle note and half a crown, I could run round to the pastrycook'sto sign something, or I could sign something in the Square ifsomebody would come and cough for me to let 'em in with the key,and would bring a pen and ink with 'em and a bit of blotting-paper.Oh, my gracious! I must tear myself away, or Pa and Ma will bothfind out! Dear, dear Sophronia, good, good-bye!'

The credulous little creature again embraced Mrs Lammle mostaffectionately, and then held out her hand to Mr Lammle.

'Good-bye, dear Mr Lammle--I mean Alfred. You won't think afterto-day that I have deserted you and Sophronia because you havebeen brought low in the world, will you? Oh me! oh me! I havebeen crying my eyes out of my head, and Ma will he sure to ask mewhat's the matter. Oh, take me down, somebody, please, please,please!'

Mr Boffin took her down, and saw her driven away, with her poorlittle red eyes and weak chin peering over the great apron of thecustard-coloured phaeton, as if she had been ordered to expiatesome childish misdemeanour by going to bed in the daylight, andwere peeping over the counterpane in a miserable flutter ofrepentance and low spirits. Returning to the breakfast-room, hefound Mrs Lammle still standing on her side of the table, and MrLammle on his.

'I'll take care,' said Mr Boffin, showing the money and thenecklace, 'that these are soon given back.'

Mrs Lammle had taken up her parasol from a side table, and stoodsketching with it on the pattern of the damask cloth, as she hadsketched on the pattern of Mr Twemlow's papered wall.

'You will not undeceive her I hope, Mr Boffin?' she said, turningher head towards him, but not her eyes.

'No,' said Mr Boffin.

'I mean, as to the worth and value of her friend,' Mrs Lammleexplained, in a measured voice, and with an emphasis on her lastword.

'No,' he returned. 'I may try to give a hint at her home that she is inwant of kind and careful protection, but I shall say no more thanthat to her parents, and I shall say nothing to the young ladyherself.'

'Mr and Mrs Boffin,' said Mrs Lammle, still sketching, andseeming to bestow great pains upon it, 'there are not many people,I think, who, under the circumstances, would have been soconsiderate and sparing as you have been to me just now. Do youcare to be thanked?'

'Thanks are always worth having,' said Mrs Boffin, in her readygood nature.

'Then thank you both.'

'Sophronia,' asked her husband, mockingly, 'are you sentimental?'

'Well, well, my good sir,' Mr Boffin interposed, 'it's a very goodthing to think well of another person, and it's a very good thing tobe thought well of BY another person. Mrs Lammle will be nonethe worse for it, if she is.'

'Much obliged. But I asked Mrs Lammle if she was.'

She stood sketching on the table-cloth, with her face clouded andset, and was silent.

'Because,' said Alfred, 'I am disposed to be sentimental myself,on your appropriation of the jewels and the money, Mr Boffin. Asour little Georgiana said, three five-pound notes are better thannothing, and if you sell a necklace you can buy things with theproduce.'

'IF you sell it,' was Mr Boffin's comment, as he put it in his pocket.

Alfred followed it with his looks, and also greedily pursued thenotes until they vanished into Mr Boffin's waistcoat pocket. Thenhe directed a look, half exasperated and half jeering, at his wife.She still stood sketching; but, as she sketched, there was a strugglewithin her, which found expression in the depth of the few lastlines the parasol point indented into the table-cloth, and then sometears fell from her eyes.

'Why, confound the woman,' exclaimed Lammle, 'she ISsentimental!

She walked to the window, flinching under his angry stare, lookedout for a moment, and turned round quite coldly.

'You have had no former cause of complaint on the sentimentalscore, Alfred, and you will have none in future. It is not worthyour noticing. We go abroad soon, with the money we have earnedhere?'

'You know we do; you know we must.'

'There is no fear of my taking any sentiment with me. I shouldsoon be eased of it, if I did. But it will be all left behind. It IS allleft behind. Are you ready, Alfred?'

'What the deuce have I been waiting for but you, Sophronia?'

'Let us go then. I am sorry I have delayed our dignified departure.'

She passed out and he followed her. Mr and Mrs Boffin had thecuriosity softly to raise a window and look after them as they wentdown the long street. They walked arm-in-arm, showily enough,but without appearing to interchange a syllable. It might havebeen fanciful to suppose that under their outer bearing there wassomething of the shamed air of two cheats who were linkedtogether by concealed handcuffs; but, not so, to suppose that theywere haggardly weary of one another, of themselves, and of all thisworld. In turning the street corner they might have turned out ofthis world, for anything Mr and Mrs Boffin ever saw of them to thecontrary; for, they set eyes on the Lammles never more.

Chapter 3

THE GOLDEN DUSTMAN SINKS AGAIN

The evening of that day being one of the reading evenings at theBower, Mr Boffin kissed Mrs Boffin after a five o'clock dinner,and trotted out, nursing his big stick in both arms, so that, as ofold, it seemed to be whispering in his ear. He carried so veryattentive an expression on his countenance that it appeared as if theconfidential discourse of the big stick required to be followedclosely. Mr Boffin's face was like the face of a thoughtful listenerto an intricate communication, and, in trotting along, heoccasionally glanced at that companion with the look of a manwho was interposing the remark: 'You don't mean it!'

Mr Boffin and his stick went on alone together, until they arrivedat certain cross-ways where they would be likely to fall in with anyone coming, at about the same time, from Clerkenwell to theBower. Here they stopped, and Mr Boffin consulted his watch.

But Venus was a punctual man, and, even as Mr Boffin replacedhis watch in its pocket, was to be descried coming towards him.He quickened his pace on seeing Mr Boffin already at the place ofmeeting, and was soon at his side.

'Thank'ee, Venus,' said Mr Boffin. 'Thank'ee, thank'ee, thank'ee!'

It would not have been very evident why he thanked the anatomist,but for his furnishing the explanation in what he went on to say.

'All right, Venus, all right. Now, that you've been to see me, andhave consented to keep up the appearance before Wegg ofremaining in it for a time, I have got a sort of a backer. All right,Venus. Thank'ee, Venus. Thank'ee, thank'ee, thank'ee!'

Mr Venus shook the proffered hand with a modest air, and theypursued the direction of the Bower.

'Do you think Wegg is likely to drop down upon me to-night,Venus?' inquired Mr Boffin, wistfully, as they went along.

'I think he is, sir.'

'Have you any particular reason for thinking so, Venus?'

'Well, sir,' returned that personage, 'the fact is, he has given meanother look-in, to make sure of what he calls our stock-in-tradebeing correct, and he has mentioned his intention that he was notto be put off beginning with you the very next time you shouldcome. And this,' hinted Mr Venus, delicately, 'being the very nexttime, you know, sir--'

--'Why, therefore you suppose he'll turn to at the grindstone, eh,Wegg?' said Mr Boffin.

'Just so, sir.'

Mr Boffin took his nose in his hand, as if it were alreadyexcoriated, and the sparks were beginning to fly out of that feature.'He's a terrible fellow, Venus; he's an awful fellow. I don't knowhow ever I shall go through with it. You must stand by me, Venuslike a good man and true. You'll do all you can to stand by me,Venus; won't you?'

Mr Venus replied with the assurance that he would; and MrBoffin, looking anxious and dispirited, pursued the way in silenceuntil they rang at the Bower gate. The stumping approach ofWegg was soon heard behind it, and as it turned upon its hinges hebecame visible with his hand on the lock.

'Mr Boffin, sir?' he remarked. 'You're quite a stranger!'

'Yes. I've been otherwise occupied, Wegg.'

'Have you indeed, sir?' returned the literary gentleman, with athreatening sneer. 'Hah! I've been looking for you, sir, rather whatI may call specially.'

'You don't say so, Wegg?'

'Yes, I do say so, sir. And if you hadn't come round to me tonight,dash my wig if I wouldn't have come round to you tomorrow.Now! I tell you!'

'"If you'll come to the Bower I've shaded for you, Your bed shan't be roses all spangled with doo: Will you, will you, will you, will you, come to the Bower? Oh, won't you, won't you, won't you, won't you, come to the Bower?"'

An unholy glare of contradiction and offence shone in the eyes ofMr Wegg, as he turned the key on his patron, after ushering himinto the yard with this vocal quotation. Mr Boffin's air wascrestfallen and submissive. Whispered Wegg to Venus, as theycrossed the yard behind him: 'Look at the worm and minion; he'sdown in the mouth already.' Whispered Venus to Wegg: 'That'sbecause I've told him. I've prepared the way for you.'

Mr Boffin, entering the usual chamber, laid his stick upon thesettle usually reserved for him, thrust his hands into his pockets,and, with his shoulders raised and his hat drooping back uponthem, looking disconsolately at Wegg. 'My friend and partner, MrVenus, gives me to understand,' remarked that man of might,addressing him, 'that you are aware of our power over you. Now,when you have took your hat off, we'll go into that pint.'

Mr Boffin shook it off with one shake, so that it dropped on thefloor behind him, and remained in his former attitude with hisformer rueful look upon him.

'First of all, I'm a-going to call you Boffin, for short,' said Wegg.'If you don't like it, it's open to you to lump it.'

'I don't mind it, Wegg,' Mr Boffin replied.

'That's lucky for you, Boffin. Now, do you want to be read to?'

'I don't particularly care about it to-night, Wegg.'

'Because if you did want to,' pursued Mr Wegg, the brilliancy ofwhose point was dimmed by his having been unexpectedlyanswered: 'you wouldn't be. I've been your slave long enough. I'mnot to be trampled under-foot by a dustman any more. With thesingle exception of the salary, I renounce the whole and totalsitiwation.'

'Since you say it is to be so, Wegg,' returned Mr Boffin, withfolded hands, 'I suppose it must be.'

'I suppose it must be,' Wegg retorted. 'Next (to clear the groundbefore coming to business), you've placed in this yard a skulking, asneaking, and a sniffing, menial.'

'He hadn't a cold in his head when I sent him here,' said Mr Boffin.

'Boffin!' retorted Wegg, 'I warn you not to attempt a joke with me!'

Here Mr Venus interposed, and remarked that he conceived MrBoffin to have taken the description literally; the rather, forasmuchas he, Mr Venus, had himself supposed the menial to havecontracted an affliction or a habit of the nose, involving a seriousdrawback on the pleasures of social intercourse, until he haddiscovered that Mr Wegg's description of him was to be acceptedas merely figurative.

'Anyhow, and every how,' said Wegg, 'he has been planted here,and he is here. Now, I won't have him here. So I call upon Boffin,before I say another word, to fetch him in and send him packing tothe right-about.'

The unsuspecting Sloppy was at that moment airing his manybuttons within view of the window. Mr Boffin, after a shortinterval of impassive discomfiture, opened the window andbeckoned him to come in.

'I call upon Boffin,' said Wegg, with one arm a-kimbo and hishead on one side, like a bullying counsel pausing for an answerfrom a witness, 'to inform that menial that I am Master here!'

In humble obedience, when the button-gleaming Sloppy enteredMr Boffin said to him: 'Sloppy, my fine fellow, Mr Wegg is Masterhere. He doesn't want you, and you are to go from here.'

'For good!' Mr Wegg severely stipulated.

'For good,' said Mr Boffin.

Sloppy stared, with both his eyes and all his buttons, and hismouth wide open; but was without loss of time escorted forth bySilas Wegg, pushed out at the yard gate by the shoulders, andlocked out.

'The atomspear,' said Wegg, stumping back into the room again, alittle reddened by his late exertion, 'is now freer for the purposes ofrespiration. Mr Venus, sir, take a chair. Boffin, you may sitdown.'

Mr Boffin, still with his hands ruefully stuck in his pockets, sat onthe edge of the settle, shrunk into a small compass, and eyed thepotent Silas with conciliatory looks.

'This gentleman,' said Silas Wegg, pointing out Venus, 'thisgentleman, Boffin, is more milk and watery with you than I'll be.But he hasn't borne the Roman yoke as I have, nor yet he hasn'tbeen required to pander to your depraved appetite for miserlycharacters.'

'Hold your tongue, Boffin! Answer when you're called upon toanswer. You'll find you've got quite enough to do. Now, you'reaware--are you--that you're in possession of property to whichyou've no right at all? Are you aware of that?'

'Venus tells me so,' said Mr Boffin, glancing towards him for anysupport he could give.

'I tell you so,' returned Silas. 'Now, here's my hat, Boffin, andhere's my walking-stick. Trifle with me, and instead of making abargain with you, I'll put on my hat and take up my walking-stick,and go out, and make a bargain with the rightful owner. Now,what do you say?'

'I say,' returned Mr Boffin, leaning forward in alarmed appeal,with his hands on his knees, 'that I am sure I don't want to trifle.Wegg. I have said so to Venus.'

'You certainly have, sir,' said Venus.

'You're too milk and watery with our friend, you are indeed,'remonstrated Silas, with a disapproving shake of his wooden head.Then at once you confess yourself desirous to come to terms, doyou Boffin? Before you answer, keep this hat well in your mindand also this walking-stick.'

'I am willing, Wegg, to come to terms.'

'Willing won't do, Boffin. I won't take willing. Are you desirousto come to terms? Do you ask to be allowed as a favour to come toterms?' Mr Wegg again planted his arm, and put his head on oneside.

'Yes.'

'Yes what?' said the inexorable Wegg: 'I won't take yes. I'll have itout of you in full, Boffin.'

'Dear me!' cried that unfortunate gentleman. 'I am so worrited! Iask to be allowed to come to terms, supposing your document is allcorrect.'

'Don't you be afraid of that,' said Silas, poking his head at him.'You shall be satisfied by seeing it. Mr Venus will show it you,and I'll hold you the while. Then you want to know what the termsare. Is that about the sum and substance of it? Will you or won'tyou answer, Boffin?' For he had paused a moment.

'Dear me!' cried that unfortunate gentleman again, 'I am worritedto that degree that I'm almost off my head. You hurry me so. Beso good as name the terms, Wegg.'

'Now, mark, Boffin,' returned Silas: 'Mark 'em well, becausethey're the lowest terms and the only terms. You'll throw yourMound (the little Mound as comes to you any way) into the generalestate, and then you'll divide the whole property into three parts,and you'll keep one and hand over the others.'

'Now, wait a bit, Boffin,' Wegg proceeded, 'there's somethingmore. You've been a squandering this property--laying some of itout on yourself. THAT won't do. You've bought a house. You'llbe charged for it.'

'I shall be ruined, Wegg!' Mr Boffin faintly protested.

'Now, wait a bit, Boffin; there's something more. You'll leave mein sole custody of these Mounds till they're all laid low. If anywaluables should be found in 'em, I'll take care of such waluables.You'll produce your contract for the sale of the Mounds, that wemay know to a penny what they're worth, and you'll make outlikewise an exact list of all the other property. When the Moundsis cleared away to the last shovel-full, the final diwision will comeoff.'

'Dreadful, dreadful, dreadful! I shall die in a workhouse!' cried theGolden Dustman, with his hands to his head.

'Now, wait a bit, Boffin; there's something more. You've beenunlawfully ferreting about this yard. You've been seen in the act offerreting about this yard. Two pair of eyes at the present momentbrought to bear upon you, have seen you dig up a Dutch bottle.'

'It was mine, Wegg,' protested Mr Boffin. 'I put it there myself.'

'What was in it, Boffin?' inquired Silas.

'Not gold, not silver, not bank notes, not jewels, nothing that youcould turn into money, Wegg; upon my soul!'

'Prepared, Mr Venus,' said Wegg, turning to his partner with aknowing and superior air, 'for an ewasive answer on the part of ourdusty friend here, I have hit out a little idea which I think will meetyour views. We charge that bottle against our dusty friend at athousand pound.'

Mr Boffin drew a deep groan.

'Now, wait a bit, Boffin; there's something more. In youremployment is an under-handed sneak, named Rokesmith. Itwon't answer to have HIM about, while this business of ours isabout. He must be discharged.'

'Rokesmith is already discharged,' said Mr Boffin, speaking in amuffled voice, with his hands before his face, as he rocked himselfon the settle.

'Already discharged, is he?' returned Wegg, surprised. 'Oh! Then,Boffin, I believe there's nothing more at present.'

The unlucky gentleman continuing to rock himself to and fro, andto utter an occasional moan, Mr Venus besought him to bear upagainst his reverses, and to take time to accustom himself to thethought of his new position. But, his taking time was exactly thething of all others that Silas Wegg could not be induced to hear of.'Yes or no, and no half measures!' was the motto which thatobdurate person many times repeated; shaking his fist at MrBoffin, and pegging his motto into the floor with his wooden leg,in a threatening and alarming manner.

At length, Mr Boffin entreated to be allowed a quarter of an hour'sgrace, and a cooling walk of that duration in the yard. With somedifficulty Mr Wegg granted this great favour, but only on conditionthat he accompanied Mr Boffin in his walk, as not knowing whathe might fraudulently unearth if he were left to himself. A moreabsurd sight than Mr Boffin in his mental irritation trotting verynimbly, and Mr Wegg hopping after him with great exertion, eagerto watch the slightest turn of an eyelash, lest it should indicate aspot rich with some secret, assuredly had never been seen in theshadow of the Mounds. Mr Wegg was much distressed when thequarter of an hour expired, and came hopping in, a very badsecond.

'I can't help myself!' cried Mr Boffin, flouncing on the settle in aforlorn manner, with his hands deep in his pockets, as if hispockets had sunk. 'What's the good of my pretending to stand out,when I can't help myself? I must give in to the terms. But I shouldlike to see the document.'

Wegg, who was all for clinching the nail he had so strongly drivenhome, announced that Boffin should see it without an hour's delay.Taking him into custody for that purpose, or overshadowing him asif he really were his Evil Genius in visible form, Mr Wegg clappedMr Boffin's hat upon the back of his head, and walked him out bythe arm, asserting a proprietorship over his soul and body that wasat once more grim and more ridiculous than anything in MrVenus's rare collection. That light-haired gentleman followedclose upon their heels, at least backing up Mr Boffin in a literalsense, if he had not had recent opportunities of doing so spiritually;while Mr Boffin, trotting on as hard as he could trot, involved SilasWegg in frequent collisions with the public, much as a pre-occupied blind man's dog may be seen to involve his master.

Thus they reached Mr Venus's establishment, somewhat heated bythe nature of their progress thither. Mr Wegg, especially, was in aflaming glow, and stood in the little shop, panting and moppinghis head with his pocket-handkerchief, speechless for severalminutes.

Meanwhile, Mr Venus, who had left the duelling frogs to fight itout in his absence by candlelight for the public delectation, put theshutters up. When all was snug, and the shop-door fastened, hesaid to the perspiring Silas: 'I suppose, Mr Wegg, we may nowproduce the paper?'

'Hold on a minute, sir,' replied that discreet character; 'hold on aminute. Will you obligingly shove that box--which you mentionedon a former occasion as containing miscellanies--towards me in themidst of the shop here?'

'Now, Boffin,' said Wegg, 'mount up here and take your seat, willyou?'

Mr Boffin, as if he were about to have his portrait painted, or to beelectrified, or to be made a Freemason, or to be placed at any othersolitary disadvantage, ascended the rostrum prepared for him.

'Now, Mr Venus,' said Silas, taking off his coat, 'when I catchesour friend here round the arms and body, and pins him tight to theback of the chair, you may show him what he wants to see. Ifyou'll open it and hold it well up in one hand, sir, and a candle inthe other, he can read it charming.'

Mr Boffin seemed rather inclined to object to these precautionaryarrangements, but, being immediately embraced by Wegg,resigned himself. Venus then produced the document, and MrBoffin slowly spelt it out aloud: so very slowly, that Wegg, whowas holding him in the chair with the grip of a wrestler, becameagain exceedingly the worse for his exertions. 'Say when you'veput it safe back, Mr Venus,' he uttered with difficulty, 'for thestrain of this is terrimenjious.'

At length the document was restored to its place; and Wegg,whose uncomfortable attitude had been that of a very perseveringman unsuccessfully attempting to stand upon his head, took a seatto recover himself. Mr Boffin, for his part, made no attempt tocome down, but remained aloft disconsolate.

'Well, Boffin!' said Wegg, as soon as he was in a condidon tospeak. 'Now, you know.'

'Yes, Wegg,' said Mr Boffin, meekly. 'Now, I know.'

'You have no doubts about it, Boffin.'

'No, Wegg. No, Wegg. None,' was the slow and sad reply.

'Then, take care, you,' said Wegg, 'that you stick to your conditions.Mr Venus, if on this auspicious occasion, you should happen tohave a drop of anything not quite so mild as tea in the 'ouse, I thinkI'd take the friendly liberty of asking you for a specimen of it.'

Mr Venus, reminded of the duties of hospitality, produced somerum. In answer to the inquiry, 'Will you mix it, Mr Wegg?' thatgentleman pleasantly rejoined, 'I think not, sir. On so auspiciousan occasion, I prefer to take it in the form of a Gum-Tickler.'

Mr Boffin, declining rum, being still elevated on his pedestal, wasin a convenient position to be addressed. Wegg having eyed himwith an impudent air at leisure, addressed him, therefore, whilerefreshing himself with his dram.

'Bof--fin!'

'Yes, Wegg,' he answered, coming out of a fit of abstraction, with asigh.

'I haven't mentioned one thing, because it's a detail that comes ofcourse. You must be followed up, you know. You must be keptunder inspection.'

'I don't quite understand,' said Mr Boffin.

'Don't you?' sneered Wegg. 'Where's your wits, Boffin? Till theMounds is down and this business completed, you're accountablefor all the property, recollect. Consider yourself accountable to me.Mr Venus here being too milk and watery with you, I am the boyfor you.'

'I've been a-thinking,' said Mr Boffin, in a tone of despondency,'that I must keep the knowledge from my old lady.'

'The knowledge of the diwision, d'ye mean?' inquired Wegg,helping himself to a third Gum-Tickler--for he had already taken asecond.

'Yes. If she was to die first of us two she might then think all herlife, poor thing, that I had got the rest of the fortune still, and wassaving it.'

'I suspect, Boffin,' returned Wegg, shaking his head sagaciously,and bestowing a wooden wink upon him, 'that you've found outsome account of some old chap, supposed to be a Miser, who gothimself the credit of having much more money than he had.However, I don't mind.'

'Don't you see, Wegg?' Mr Boffin feelingly represented to him:'don't you see? My old lady has got so used to the property. Itwould be such a hard surprise.'

'I don't see it at all,' blustered Wegg. 'You'll have as much as Ishall. And who are you?'

'Who's your old lady,' returned Wegg, 'to set herself up for havinguprighter principles than mine?'

Mr Boffin seemed a little less patient at this point than at any otherof the negotiations. But he commanded himself, and said tamelyenough: 'I think it must be kept from my old lady, Wegg.'

'Well,' said Wegg, contemptuously, though, perhaps, perceivingsome hint of danger otherwise, 'keep it from your old lady. I ain'tgoing to tell her. I can have you under close inspection withoutthat. I'm as good a man as you, and better. Ask me to dinner.Give me the run of your 'ouse. I was good enough for you and yourold lady once, when I helped you out with your weal and hammers.Was there no Miss Elizabeth, Master George, Aunt Jane, andUncle Parker, before YOU two?'

'Gently, Mr Wegg, gently,' Venus urged.

'Milk and water-erily you mean, sir,' he returned, with some littlethickness of speech, in consequence of the Gum-Ticklers havingtickled it. 'I've got him under inspection, and I'll inspect him.

"Along the line the signal ran England expects as this present man Will keep Boffin to his duty."

--Boffin, I'll see you home.'

Mr Boffin descended with an air of resignation, and gave himselfup, after taking friendly leave of Mr Venus. Once more, Inspectorand Inspected went through the streets together, and so arrived atMr Boffin's door.

But even there, when Mr Boffin had given his keeper good-night,and had let himself in with his key, and had softly closed the door,even there and then, the all-powerful Silas must needs claimanother assertion of his newly-asserted power.

'Bof--fin!' he called through the keyhole.

'Yes, Wegg,' was the reply through the same channel.

'Come out. Show yourself again. Let's have another look at you!'Mr Boffin--ah, how fallen from the high estate of his honestsimplicity!--opened the door and obeyed.

'Go in. You may get to bed now,' said Wegg, with a grin.

The door was hardly closed, when he again called through thekeyhole: 'Bof--fin!'

'Yes, Wegg.'

This time Silas made no reply, but laboured with a will at turningan imaginary grindstone outside the keyhole, while Mr Boffinstooped at it within; he then laughed silently, and stumped home.

Chapter 4

A RUNAWAY MATCH

Cherubic Pa arose with as little noise as possible from besidemajestic Ma, one morning early, having a holiday before him. Paand the lovely woman had a rather particular appointment to keep.

Yet Pa and the lovely woman were not going out together. Bellawas up before four, but had no bonnet on. She was waiting at thefoot of the stairs--was sitting on the bottom stair, in fact--to receivePa when he came down, but her only object seemed to be to get Pawell out of the house.

'Your breakfast is ready, sir,' whispered Bella, after greeting himwith a hug, 'and all you have to do, is, to eat it up and drink it up,and escape. How do you feel, Pa?'

'To the best of my judgement, like a housebreaker new to thebusiness, my dear, who can't make himself quite comfortable tillhe is off the premises.'

Bella tucked her arm in his with a merry noiseless laugh, and theywent down to the kitchen on tiptoe; she stopping on every separatestair to put the tip of her forefinger on her rosy lips, and then lay iton his lips, according to her favourite petting way of kissing Pa.

'How do YOU feel, my love?' asked R. W., as she gave him hisbreakfast.

'I feel as if the Fortune-teller was coming true, dear Pa, and the fairlittle man was turning out as was predicted.'

'Ho! Only the fair little man?' said her father.

Bella put another of those finger-seals upon his lips, and then said,kneeling down by him as he sat at table: 'Now, look here, sir. Ifyou keep well up to the mark this day, what do you think youdeserve? What did I promise you should have, if you were good,upon a certain occasion?'

'Upon my word I don't remember, Precious. Yes, I do, though.Wasn't it one of these beau--tiful tresses?' with his caressing handupon her hair.

'Wasn't it, too!' returned Bella, pretending to pout. 'Upon my word!Do you know, sir, that the Fortune-teller would give five thousandguineas (if it was quite convenient to him, which it isn't) for thelovely piece I have cut off for you? You can form no idea, sir, ofthe number of times he kissed quite a scrubby little piece--incomparison--that I cut off for HIM. And he wears it, too, round hisneck, I can tell you! Near his heart!' said Bella, nodding. 'Ah! verynear his heart! However, you have been a good, good boy, and youare the best of all the dearest boys that ever were, this morning,and here's the chain I have made of it, Pa, and you must let me putit round your neck with my own loving hands.'

As Pa bent his head, she cried over him a little, and then said (afterhaving stopped to dry her eyes on his white waistcoat, thediscovery of which incongruous circumstance made her laugh):'Now, darling Pa, give me your hands that I may fold themtogether, and do you say after me:--My little Bella.'

'My little Bella,' repeated Pa.

'I am very fond of you.'

'I am very fond of you, my darling,' said Pa.

'You mustn't say anything not dictated to you, sir. You daren't doit in your responses at Church, and you mustn't do it in yourresponses out of Church.'

'I withdraw the darling,' said Pa.

'That's a pious boy! Now again:--You were always--'

'You were always,' repeated Pa.

'A vexatious--'

'No you weren't,' said Pa.

'A vexatious (do you hear, sir?), a vexatious, capricious, thankless,troublesome, Animal; but I hope you'll do better in the time tocome, and I bless you and forgive you!' Here, she quite forgot thatit was Pa's turn to make the responses, and clung to his neck.'Dear Pa, if you knew how much I think this morning of what youtold me once, about the first time of our seeing old Mr Harmon,when I stamped and screamed and beat you with my detestablelittle bonnet! I feel as if I had been stamping and screaming andbeating you with my hateful little bonnet, ever since I was born,darling!'

'Nonsense, my love. And as to your bonnets, they have alwaysbeen nice bonnets, for they have always become you--or you havebecome them; perhaps it was that--at every age.'

'Did I hurt you much, poor little Pa?' asked Bella, laughing(notwithstanding her repentance), with fantastic pleasure in thepicture, 'when I beat you with my bonnet?'

'No, my child. Wouldn't have hurt a fly!'

'Ay, but I am afraid I shouldn't have beat you at all, unless I hadmeant to hurt you,' said Bella. 'Did I pinch your legs, Pa?'

So, they went softly up the kitchen stairs on tiptoe, and Bella withher light hand softly removed the fastenings of the house door, andPa, having received a parting hug, made off. When he had gone alittle way, he looked back. Upon which, Bella set another of thosefinger seals upon the air, and thrust out her little foot expressive ofthe mark. Pa, in appropriate action, expressed fidelity to the mark,and made off as fast as he could go.

Bella walked thoughtfully in the garden for an hour and more, andthen, returning to the bedroom where Lavvy the Irrepressible stillslumbered, put on a little bonnet of quiet, but on the whole of slyappearance, which she had yesterday made. 'I am going for awalk, Lavvy,' she said, as she stooped down and kissed her. TheIrrepressible, with a bounce in the bed, and a remark that it wasn'ttime to get up yet, relapsed into unconsciousness, if she had comeout of it.

Behold Bella tripping along the streets, the dearest girl afoot underthe summer sun! Behold Pa waiting for Bella behind a pump, atleast three miles from the parental roof-tree. Behold Bella and Paaboard an early steamboat for Greenwich.

Were they expected at Greenwich? Probably. At least, Mr JohnRokesmith was on the pier looking out, about a couple of hoursbefore the coaly (but to him gold-dusty) little steamboat got hersteam up in London. Probably. At least, Mr John Rokesmithseemed perfectly satisfied when he descried them on board.Probably. At least, Bella no sooner stepped ashore than she tookMr John Rokesmith's arm, without evincing surprise, and the twowalked away together with an ethereal air of happiness which, as itwere, wafted up from the earth and drew after them a gruff andglum old pensioner to see it out. Two wooden legs had this gruffand glum old pensioner, and, a minute before Bella stepped out ofthe boat, and drew that confiding little arm of hers throughRokesmith's, he had had no object in life but tobacco, and notenough of that. Stranded was Gruff and Glum in a harbour ofeverlasting mud, when all in an instant Bella floated him, andaway he went.

Say, cherubic parent taking the lead, in what direction do we steerfirst? With some such inquiry in his thoughts, Gruff and Glum,stricken by so sudden an interest that he perked his neck andlooked over the intervening people, as if he were trying to stand ontiptoe with his two wooden legs, took an observation of R. W.There was no 'first' in the case, Gruff and Glum made out; thecherubic parent was bearing down and crowding on direct forGreenwich church, to see his relations.

For, Gruff and Glum, though most events acted on him simply astobacco-stoppers, pressing down and condensing the quids withinhim, might be imagined to trace a family resemblance between thecherubs in the church architecture, and the cherub in the whitewaistcoat. Some remembrance of old Valentines, wherein acherub, less appropriately attired for a proverbially uncertainclimate, had been seen conducting lovers to the altar, might havebeen fancied to inflame the ardour of his timber toes. Be it as itmight, he gave his moorings the slip, and followed in chase.

The cherub went before, all beaming smiles; Bella and JohnRokesmith followed; Gruff and Glum stuck to them like wax. Foryears, the wings of his mind had gone to look after the legs of hisbody; but Bella had brought them back for him per steamer, andthey were spread again.

He was a slow sailer on a wind of happiness, but he took a crosscut for the rendezvous, and pegged away as if he were scoringfuriously at cribbage. When the shadow of the church-porchswallowed them up, victorious Gruff and Glum likewise presentedhimself to be swallowed up. And by this time the cherubic parentwas so fearful of surprise, that, but for the two wooden legs onwhich Gruff and Glum was reassuringly mounted, his consciencemight have introduced, in the person of that pensioner, his ownstately lady disguised, arrived at Greenwich in a car and griffins,like the spiteful Fairy at the christenings of the Princesses, to dosomething dreadful to the marriage service. And truly he had amomentary reason to be pale of face, and to whisper to Bella, 'Youdon't think that can be your Ma; do you, my dear?' on account of amysterious rustling and a stealthy movement somewhere in theremote neighbourhood of the organ, though it was gone directlyand was heard no more. Albeit it was heard of afterwards, as willafterwards be read in this veracious register of marriage.

Who taketh? I, John, and so do I, Bella. Who giveth? I, R. W.Forasmuch, Gruff and Glum, as John and Bella have consentedtogether in holy wedlock, you may (in short) consider it done, andwithdraw your two wooden legs from this temple. To theforegoing purport, the Minister speaking, as directed by theRubric, to the People, selectly represented in the present instanceby G. and G. above mentioned.

And now, the church-porch having swallowed up Bella Wilfer forever and ever, had it not in its power to relinquish that youngwoman, but slid into the happy sunlight, Mrs John Rokesmithinstead. And long on the bright steps stood Gruff and Glum,looking after the pretty bride, with a narcotic consciousness ofhaving dreamed a dream.

After which, Bella took out from her pocket a little letter, and readit aloud to Pa and John; this being a true copy of the same.

'DEAREST MA,

I hope you won't be angry, but I am most happily married to MrJohn Rokesmith, who loves me better than I can ever deserve,except by loving him with all my heart. I thought it best not tomention it beforehand, in case it should cause any little differenceat home. Please tell darling Pa. With love to Lavvy,

Ever dearest Ma,Your affectionate daughter,BELLA(P.S.--Rokesmith).'

Then, John Rokesmith put the queen's countenance on the letter--when had Her Gracious Majesty looked so benign as on thatblessed morning!--and then Bella popped it into the post-office,and said merrily, 'Now, dearest Pa, you are safe, and will never betaken alive!'

Pa was, at first, in the stirred depths of his conscience, so far fromsure of being safe yet, that he made out majestic matrons lurking inambush among the harmless trees of Greenwich Park, and seemedto see a stately countenance tied up in a well-known pocket-handkerchief glooming down at him from a window of theObservatory, where the Familiars of the Astronomer Royal nightlyoutwatch the winking stars. But, the minutes passing on and noMrs Wilfer in the flesh appearing, he became more confident, andso repaired with good heart and appetite to Mr and Mrs JohnRokesmith's cottage on Blackheath, where breakfast was ready.

A modest little cottage but a bright and a fresh, and on the snowytablecloth the prettiest of little breakfasts. In waiting, too, like anattendant summer breeze, a fluttering young damsel, all pink andribbons, blushing as if she had been married instead of Bella, andyet asserting the triumph of her sex over both John and Pa, in anexulting and exalted flurry: as who should say, 'This is what youmust all come to, gentlemen, when we choose to bring you tobook.' This same young damsel was Bella's serving-maid, andunto her did deliver a bunch of keys, commanding treasures in theway of dry-saltery, groceries, jams and pickles, the investigation ofwhich made pastime after breakfast, when Bella declared that 'Pamust taste everything, John dear, or it will never be lucky,' andwhen Pa had all sorts of things poked into his mouth, and didn'tquite know what to do with them when they were put there.

Then they, all three, out for a charming ride, and for a charmingstroll among heath in bloom, and there behold the identical Gruffand Glum with his wooden legs horizontally disposed before him,apparently sitting meditating on the vicissitudes of life! To whomsaid Bella, in her light-hearted surprise: 'Oh! How do you doagain? What a dear old pensioner you are!' To which Gruff andGlum responded that he see her married this morning, my Beauty,and that if it warn't a liberty he wished her ji and the fairest of fairwind and weather; further, in a general way requesting to knowwhat cheer? and scrambling up on his two wooden legs to salute,hat in hand, ship-shape, with the gallantry of a man-of-warsmanand a heart of oak.

It was a pleasant sight, in the midst of the golden bloom, to seethis salt old Gruff and Glum, waving his shovel hat at Bella, whilehis thin white hair flowed free, as if she had once more launchedhim into blue water again. 'You are a charming old pensioner,'said Bella, 'and I am so happy that I wish I could make you happy,too.' Answered Gruff and Glum, 'Give me leave to kiss your hand,my Lovely, and it's done!' So it was done to the generalcontentment; and if Gruff and Glum didn't in the course of theafternoon splice the main brace, it was not for want of the means ofinflicting that outrage on the feelings of the Infant Bands of Hope.

But, the marriage dinner was the crowning success, for what hadbride and bridegroom plotted to do, but to have and to hold thatdinner in the very room of the very hotel where Pa and the lovelywoman had once dined together! Bella sat between Pa and John,and divided her attentions pretty equally, but felt it necessary (inthe waiter's absence before dinner) to remind Pa that she was HISlovely woman no longer.

'I am well aware of it, my dear,' returned the cherub, 'and I resignyou willingly.'

'Willingly, sir? You ought to be brokenhearted.'

'So I should be, my dear, if I thought that I was going to lose you.'

'But you know you are not; don't you, poor dear Pa? You knowthat you have only made a new relation who will be as fond of youand as thankful to you--for my sake and your own sake both--as Iam; don't you, dear little Pa? Look here, Pa!' Bella put her fingeron her own lip, and then on Pa's, and then on her own lip again,and then on her husband's. 'Now, we are a partnership of three,dear Pa.'

The appearance of dinner here cut Bella short in one of herdisappearances: the more effectually, because it was put on underthe auspices of a solemn gentleman in black clothes and a whitecravat, who looked much more like a clergyman than THEclergyman, and seemed to have mounted a great deal higher in thechurch: not to say, scaled the steeple. This dignitary, conferring insecrecy with John Rokesmith on the subject of punch and wines,bent his head as though stooping to the Papistical practice ofreceiving auricular confession. Likewise, on John's offering asuggestion which didn't meet his views, his face became overcastand reproachful, as enjoining penance.

What a dinner! Specimens of all the fishes that swim in the sea,surely had swum their way to it, and if samples of the fishes ofdivers colours that made a speech in the Arabian Nights (quite aministerial explanation in respect of cloudiness), and then jumpedout of the frying-pan, were not to be recognized, it was onlybecause they had all become of one hue by being cooked in batteramong the whitebait. And the dishes being seasoned with Bliss--an article which they are sometimes out of, at Greenwich--were ofperfect flavour, and the golden drinks had been bottled in thegolden age and hoarding up their sparkles ever since.

The best of it was, that Bella and John and the cherub had made acovenant that they would not reveal to mortal eyes any appearancewhatever of being a wedding party. Now, the supervisingdignitary, the Archbishop of Greenwich, knew this as well as if hehad performed the nuptial ceremony. And the loftiness with whichhis Grace entered into their confidence without being invited, andinsisted on a show of keeping the waiters out of it, was thecrowning glory of the entertainment.

There was an innocent young waiter of a slender form and withweakish legs, as yet unversed in the wiles of waiterhood, and buttoo evidently of a romantic temperament, and deeply (it were nottoo much to add hopelessly) in love with some young female notaware of his merit. This guileless youth, descrying the position ofaffairs, which even his innocence could not mistake, limited hiswaiting to languishing admiringly against the sideboard whenBella didn't want anything, and swooping at her when she did.Him, his Grace the Archbishop perpetually obstructed, cutting himout with his elbow in the moment of success, despatching him indegrading quest of melted butter, and, when by any chance he gothold of any dish worth having, bereaving him of it, and orderinghim to stand back.

'Pray excuse him, madam,' said the Archbishop in a low statelyvoice; 'he is a very young man on liking, and we DON'T like him.'

This induced John Rokesmith to observe--by way of making thething more natural--'Bella, my love, this is so much moresuccessful than any of our past anniversaries, that I think we mustkeep our future anniversaries here.'

Whereunto Bella replied, with probably the least successfulattempt at looking matronly that ever was seen: 'Indeed, I think so,John, dear.'

Here the Archbishop of Greenwich coughed a stately cough toattract the attention of three of his ministers present, and staring atthem, seemed to say: 'I call upon you by your fealty to believe this!'

With his own hands he afterwards put on the dessert, as remarkingto the three guests, 'The period has now arrived at which we candispense with the assistance of those fellows who are not in ourconfidence,' and would have retired with complete dignity but for adaring action issuing from the misguided brain of the young manon liking. He finding, by ill-fortune, a piece of orange flowersomewhere in the lobbies now approached undetected with thesame in a finger-glass, and placed it on Bella's right hand. TheArchbishop instantly ejected and excommunicated him; but thething was done.

'I trust, madam,' said his Grace, returning alone, 'that you will havethe kindness to overlook it, in consideration of its being the act of avery young man who is merely here on liking, and who will neveranswer.'

With that, he solemnly bowed and retired, and they all burst intolaughter, long and merry. 'Disguise is of no use,' said Bella; 'theyall find me out; I think it must be, Pa and John dear, because I lookso happy!'

Her husband feeling it necessary at this point to demand one ofthose mysterious disappearances on Bella's part, she dutifullyobeyed; saying in a softened voice from her place of concealment:

'You remember how we talked about the ships that day, Pa?'

'Yes, my dear.'

'Isn't it strange, now, to think that there was no John in all theships, Pa?'

'Not at all, my dear.'

'Oh, Pa! Not at all?'

'No, my dear. How can we tell what coming people are aboard theships that may be sailing to us now from the unknown seas!'

Bella remaining invisible and silent, her father remained at hisdessert and wine, until he remembered it was time for him to gethome to Holloway. 'Though I positively cannot tear myself away,'he cherubically added, '--it would be a sin--without drinking tomany, many happy returns of this most happy day.'

'Gentlemen,' said the cherub, inaudibly addressing, in his Anglo-Saxon tendency to throw his feelings into the form of a speech, theboys down below, who were bidding against each other to put theirheads in the mud for sixpence: 'Gentlemen--and Bella and John--you will readily suppose that it is not my intention to trouble youwith many observations on the present occasion. You will also atonce infer the nature and even the terms of the toast I am about topropose on the present occasion. Gentlemen--and Bella and John--the present occasion is an occasion fraught with feelings that Icannot trust myself to express. But gentlemen--and Bella andJohn--for the part I have had in it, for the confidence you haveplaced in me, and for the affectionate good-nature and kindnesswith which you have determined not to find me in the way, when Iam well aware that I cannot be otherwise than in it more or less, Ido most heartily thank you. Gentlemen--and Bella and John--mylove to you, and may we meet, as on the present occasion, on manyfuture occasions; that is to say, gentlemen--and Bella and John--onmany happy returns of the present happy occasion.'

Having thus concluded his address, the amiable cherub embracedhis daughter, and took his flight to the steamboat which was toconvey him to London, and was then lying at the floating pier,doing its best to bump the same to bits. But, the happy couplewere not going to part with him in that way, and before he hadbeen on board two minutes, there they were, looking down at himfrom the wharf above.

'Pa, dear!' cried Bella, beckoning him with her parasol to approachthe side, and bending gracefully to whisper.

'Yes, my darling.'

'Did I beat you much with that horrid little bonnet, Pa?'

'Nothing to speak of; my dear.'

'Did I pinch your legs, Pa?'

'Only nicely, my pet.'

'You are sure you quite forgive me, Pa? Please, Pa, please, forgiveme quite!' Half laughing at him and half crying to him, Bellabesought him in the prettiest manner; in a manner so engaging andso playful and so natural, that her cherubic parent made a coaxingface as if she had never grown up, and said, 'What a silly littleMouse it is!'

So, she leaning on her husband's arm, they turned homeward by arosy path which the gracious sun struck out for them in its setting.And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death. AndO what a bright old song it is, that O 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis lovethat makes the world go round!

Chapter 5

CONCERNING THE MENDICANT'S BRIDE

The impressive gloom with which Mrs Wilfer received herhusband on his return from the wedding, knocked so hard at thedoor of the cherubic conscience, and likewise so impaired thefirmness of the cherubic legs, that the culprit's tottering conditionof mind and body might have roused suspicion in less occupiedpersons that the grimly heroic lady, Miss Lavinia, and thatesteemed friend of the family, Mr George Sampson. But, theattention of all three being fully possessed by the main fact of themarriage, they had happily none to bestow on the guiltyconspirator; to which fortunate circumstance he owed the escapefor which he was in nowise indebted to himself.

'You do not, R. W.' said Mrs Wilfer from her stately corner,'inquire for your daughter Bella.'

'No. Your daughter Bella,' said Mrs Wilfer, with a lofty air ofnever having had the least copartnership in that young lady: ofwhom she now made reproachful mention as an article of luxurywhich her husband had set up entirely on his own account, and indirect opposition to her advice: '--your daughter Bella hasbestowed herself upon a Mendicant.'

'Good gracious, my dear!'

'Show your father his daughter Bella's letter, Lavinia,' said MrsWilfer, in her monotonous Act of Parliament tone, and waving herhand. 'I think your father will admit it to be documentary proof ofwhat I tell him. I believe your father is acquainted with hisdaughter Bella's writing. But I do not know. He may tell you he isnot. Nothing will surprise me.'

'Posted at Greenwich, and dated this morning,' said theIrrepressible, flouncing at her father in handing him the evidence.'Hopes Ma won't be angry, but is happily married to Mr JohnRokesmith, and didn't mention it beforehand to avoid words, andplease tell darling you, and love to me, and I should like to knowwhat you'd have said if any other unmarried member of the familyhad done it!'

He read the letter, and faintly exclaimed 'Dear me!'

'You may well say Dear me!' rejoined Mrs Wilfer, in a deep tone.Upon which encouragement he said it again, though scarcely withthe success he had expected; for the scornful lady then remarked,with extreme bitterness: 'You said that before.'

'It's very surprising. But I suppose, my dear,' hinted the cherub, ashe folded the letter after a disconcerting silence, 'that we mustmake the best of it? Would you object to my pointing out, mydear, that Mr John Rokesmith is not (so far as I am acquaintedwith him), strictly speaking, a Mendicant.'

'Indeed?' returned Mrs Wilfer, with an awful air of politeness.'Truly so? I was not aware that Mr John Rokesmith was agentleman of landed property. But I am much relieved to hear it.'

'I doubt if you HAVE heard it, my dear,' the cherub submitted withhesitation.

'Thank you,' said Mrs Wilfer. 'I make false statements, it appears?So be it. If my daughter flies in my face, surely my husband may.The one thing is not more unnatural than the other. There seems afitness in the arrangement. By all means!' Assuming, with ashiver of resignation, a deadly cheerfulness.

But, here the Irrepressible skirmished into the conflict, draggingthe reluctant form of Mr Sampson after her.

'Ma,' interposed the young lady, 'I must say I think it would bemuch better if you would keep to the point, and not hold forthabout people's flying into people's faces, which is nothing more norless than impossible nonsense.'

'How!' exclaimed Mrs Wilfer, knitting her dark brows.

'Just im-possible nonsense, Ma,' returned Lavvy, 'and GeorgeSampson knows it is, as well as I do.'

Mrs Wilfer suddenly becoming petrified, fixed her indignant eyesupon the wretched George: who, divided between the support duefrom him to his love, and the support due from him to his love'smamma, supported nobody, not even himself.

'The true point is,' pursued Lavinia, 'that Bella has behaved in amost unsisterly way to me, and might have severely compromisedme with George and with George's family, by making off andgetting married in this very low and disreputable manner--withsome pew-opener or other, I suppose, for a bridesmaid--when sheought to have confided in me, and ought to have said, "If, Lavvy,you consider it due to your engagement with George, that youshould countenance the occasion by being present, then Lavvy, Ibeg you to BE present, keeping my secret from Ma and Pa." As ofcourse I should have done.'

'As of course you would have done? Ingrate!' exclaimed MrsWilfer. 'Viper!'

'I say! You know ma'am. Upon my honour you mustn't,' MrSampson remonstrated, shaking his head seriously, 'With thehighest respect for you, ma'am, upon my life you mustn't. Noreally, you know. When a man with the feelings of a gentlemanfinds himself engaged to a young lady, and it comes (even on thepart of a member of the family) to vipers, you know!--I wouldmerely put it to your own good feeling, you know,' said MrSampson, in rather lame conclusion.

Mrs Wilfer's baleful stare at the young gentleman inacknowledgment of his obliging interference was of such a naturethat Miss Lavinia burst into tears, and caught him round the neckfor his protection.

'My own unnatural mother,' screamed the young lady, 'wants toannihilate George! But you shan't be annihilated, George. I'll diefirst!'

Mr Sampson, in the arms of his mistress, still struggled to shakehis head at Mrs Wilfer, and to remark: 'With every sentiment ofrespect for you, you know, ma'am--vipers really doesn't do youcredit.'

'You shall not be annihilated, George!' cried Miss Lavinia. 'Mashall destroy me first, and then she'll be contented. Oh, oh, oh!Have I lured George from his happy home to expose him to this!George, dear, be free! Leave me, ever dearest George, to Ma and tomy fate. Give my love to your aunt, George dear, and implore hernot to curse the viper that has crossed your path and blighted yourexistence. Oh, oh, oh!' The young lady who, hysterically speaking,was only just come of age, and had never gone off yet, here fell intoa highly creditable crisis, which, regarded as a first performance,was very successful; Mr Sampson, bending over the bodymeanwhile, in a state of distraction, which induced him to addressMrs Wilfer in the inconsistent expressions: 'Demon--with thehighest respect for you--behold your work!'

The cherub stood helplessly rubbing his chin and looking on, buton the whole was inclined to welcome this diversion as one inwhich, by reason of the absorbent properties of hysterics, theprevious question would become absorbed. And so, indeed, itproved, for the Irrepressible gradually coming to herself; andasking with wild emotion, 'George dear, are you safe?' and further,'George love, what has happened? Where is Ma?' Mr Sampson,with words of comfort, raised her prostrate form, and handed her toMrs Wilfer as if the young lady were something in the nature ofrefreshments. Mrs Wilfer with dignity partaking of therefreshments, by kissing her once on the brow (as if accepting anoyster), Miss Lavvy, tottering, returned to the protection of MrSampson; to whom she said, 'George dear, I am afraid I have beenfoolish; but I am still a little weak and giddy; don't let go my hand,George!' And whom she afterwards greatly agitated at intervals,by giving utterance, when least expected, to a sound between a soband a bottle of soda water, that seemed to rend the bosom of herfrock.

Among the most remarkable effects of this crisis may bementioned its having, when peace was restored, an inexplicablemoral influence, of an elevating kind, on Miss Lavinia, MrsWilfer, and Mr George Sampson, from which R. W. wasaltogether excluded, as an outsider and non-sympathizer. MissLavinia assumed a modest air of having distinguished herself; MrsWilfer, a serene air of forgiveness and resignation; Mr Sampson,an air of having been improved and chastened. The influencepervaded the spirit in which they returned to the previous question.

'George dear,' said Lavvy, with a melancholy smile, 'after what haspassed, I am sure Ma will tell Pa that he may tell Bella we shall allbe glad to see her and her husband.'

Mr Sampson said he was sure of it too; murmuring how eminentlyhe respected Mrs Wilfer, and ever must, and ever would. Nevermore eminently, he added, than after what had passed.

'Far be it from me,' said Mrs Wilfer, making deep proclamationfrom her corner, 'to run counter to the feelings of a child of mine,and of a Youth,' Mr Sampson hardly seemed to like that word,'who is the object of her maiden preference. I may feel--nay,know--that I have been deluded and deceived. I may feel--nay,know--that I have been set aside and passed over. I may feel--nay,know--that after having so far overcome my repugnance towardsMr and Mrs Boffin as to receive them under this roof, and toconsent to your daughter Bella's,' here turning to her husband,'residing under theirs, it were well if your daughter Bella,' againturning to her husband, 'had profited in a worldly point of view bya connection so distasteful, so disreputable. I may feel--nay,know--that in uniting herself to Mr Rokesmith she has unitedherself to one who is, in spite of shallow sophistry, a Mendicant.And I may feel well assured that your daughter Bella,' againturning to her husband, 'does not exalt her family by becoming aMendicant's bride. But I suppress what I feel, and say nothing ofit.'

Mr Sampson murmured that this was the sort of thing you mightexpect from one who had ever in her own family been an exampleand never an outrage. And ever more so (Mr Sampson added, withsome degree of obscurity,) and never more so, than in and throughwhat had passed. He must take the liberty of adding, that whatwas true of the mother was true of the youngest daughter, and thathe could never forget the touching feelings that the conduct of bothhad awakened within him. In conclusion, he did hope that therewasn't a man with a beating heart who was capable of somethingthat remained undescribed, in consequence of Miss Lavinia'sstopping him as he reeled in his speech.

'Therefore, R. W.' said Mrs Wilfer, resuming her discourse andturning to her lord again, 'let your daughter Bella come when shewill, and she will be received. So,' after a short pause, and an airof having taken medicine in it, 'so will her husband.'

'And I beg, Pa,' said Lavinia, 'that you will not tell Bella what Ihave undergone. It can do no good, and it might cause her toreproach herself.'

'My dearest girl,' urged Mr Sampson, 'she ought to know it.'

'No, George,' said Lavinia, in a tone of resolute self-denial. 'No,dearest George, let it be buried in oblivion.'

Mr Sampson considered that, 'too noble.'

'Nothing is too noble, dearest George,' returned Lavinia. 'And Pa, Ihope you will be careful not to refer before Bella, if you can help it,to my engagement to George. It might seem like reminding her ofher having cast herself away. And I hope, Pa, that you will think itequally right to avoid mentioning George's rising prospects, whenBella is present. It might seem like taunting her with her own poorfortunes. Let me ever remember that I am her younger sister, andever spare her painful contrasts, which could not but wound hersharply.'

Mr Sampson expressed his belief that such was the demeanour ofAngels. Miss Lavvy replied with solemnity, 'No, dearest George, Iam but too well aware that I am merely human.'

Mrs Wilfer, for her part, still further improved the occasion bysitting with her eyes fastened on her husband, like two great blacknotes of interrogation, severely inquiring, Are you looking intoyour breast? Do you deserve your blessings? Can you lay yourhand upon your heart and say that you are worthy of so hysterical adaughter? I do not ask you if you are worthy of such a wife--putMe out of the question--but are you sufficiently conscious of, andthankful for, the pervading moral grandeur of the family spectacleon which you are gazing? These inquiries proved very harassing toR. W. who, besides being a little disturbed by wine, was inperpetual terror of committing himself by the utterance of straywords that would betray his guilty foreknowledge. However, thescene being over, and--all things considered--well over, he soughtrefuge in a doze; which gave his lady immense offence.

'Can you think of your daughter Bella, and sleep?' she disdainfullyinquired.

To which he mildly answered, 'Yes, I think I can, my dear.'

'Then,' said Mrs Wilfer, with solemn indignation, 'I wouldrecommend you, if you have a human feeling, to retire to bed.'

'Thank you, my dear,' he replied; 'I think it IS the best place forme.' And with these unsympathetic words very gladly withdrew.

Within a few weeks afterwards, the Mendicant's bride (arm-in-armwith the Mendicant) came to tea, in fulfilment of an engagementmade through her father. And the way in which the Mendicant'sbride dashed at the unassailable position so considerately to beheld by Miss Lavy, and scattered the whole of the works in alldirections in a moment, was triumphant.

'Dearest Ma,' cried Bella, running into the room with a radiantface, 'how do you do, dearest Ma?' And then embraced her,joyously. 'And Lavvy darling, how do YOU do, and how's GeorgeSampson, and how is he getting on, and when are you going to bemarried, and how rich are you going to grow? You must tell meall about it, Lavvy dear, immediately. John, love, kiss Ma andLavvy, and then we shall all be at home and comfortable.'

Mrs Wilfer stared, but was helpless. Miss Lavinia stared, but washelpless. Apparently with no compunction, and assuredly with noceremony, Bella tossed her bonnet away, and sat down to make thetea.

'Dearest Ma and Lavvy, you both take sugar, I know. And Pa (yougood little Pa), you don't take milk. John does. I didn't before Iwas married; but I do now, because John does. John dear, did youkiss Ma and Lavvy? Oh, you did! Quite correct, John dear; but Ididn't see you do it, so I asked. Cut some bread and butter, John;that's a love. Ma likes it doubled. And now you must tell me,dearest Ma and Lavvy, upon your words and honours! Didn't youfor a moment--just a moment--think I was a dreadful little wretchwhen I wrote to say I had run away?'

Before Mrs Wilfer could wave her gloves, the Mendicant's bride inher merriest affectionate manner went on again.

'I think it must have made you rather cross, dear Ma and Lavvy,and I know I deserved that you should be very cross. But you see Ihad been such a heedless, heartless creature, and had led you so toexpect that I should marry for money, and so to make sure that Iwas incapable of marrying for love, that I thought you couldn'tbelieve me. Because, you see, you didn't know how much of Good,Good, Good, I had learnt from John. Well! So I was sly about it,and ashamed of what you supposed me to be, and fearful that wecouldn't understand one another and might come to words, whichwe should all be sorry for afterwards, and so I said to John that ifhe liked to take me without any fuss, he might. And as he did like,I let him. And we were married at Greenwich church in thepresence of nobody--except an unknown individual who droppedin,' here her eyes sparkled more brightly, 'and half a pensioner.And now, isn't it nice, dearest Ma and Lavvy, to know that nowords have been said which any of us can be sorry for, and that weare all the best of friends at the pleasantest of teas!'

Having got up and kissed them again, she slipped back to her chair(after a loop on the road to squeeze her husband round the neck)and again went on.

'And now you will naturally want to know, dearest Ma and Lavvy,how we live, and what we have got to live upon. Well! And so welive on Blackheath, in the charm--ingest of dolls' houses, de--lightfully furnished, and we have a clever little servant who is de--cidedly pretty, and we are economical and orderly, and doeverything by clockwork, and we have a hundred and fifty poundsa year, and we have all we want, and more. And lastly, if youwould like to know in confidence, as perhaps you may, what is myopinion of my husband, my opinion is--that I almost love him!'

'And if you would like to know in confidence, as perhaps you may,'said her husband, smiling, as he stood by her side, without herhaving detected his approach, 'my opinion of my wife, my opinionis--.' But Bella started up, and put her hand upon his lips.

'Stop, Sir! No, John, dear! Seriously! Please not yet a while! Iwant to be something so much worthier than the doll in the doll'shouse.'

'My darling, are you not?'

'Not half, not a quarter, so much worthier as I hope you may someday find me! Try me through some reverse, John--try me throughsome trial--and tell them after THAT, what you think of me.'

'I will, my Life,' said John. 'I promise it.'

'That's my dear John. And you won't speak a word now; will you?'

'And I won't,' said John, with a very expressive look of admirationaround him, 'speak a word now!'

She laid her laughing cheek upon his breast to thank him, and said,looking at the rest of them sideways out of her bright eyes: 'I'll gofurther, Pa and Ma and Lavvy. John don't suspect it--he has noidea of it--but I quite love him!'

Even Mrs Wilfer relaxed under the influence of her marrieddaughter, and seemed in a majestic manner to imply remotely thatif R. W. had been a more deserving object, she too might havecondescended to come down from her pedestal for his beguilement.Miss Lavinia, on the other hand, had strong doubts of the policy ofthe course of treatment, and whether it might not spoil MrSampson, if experimented on in the case of that young gentleman.R. W. himself was for his part convinced that he was father of oneof the most charming of girls, and that Rokesmith was the mostfavoured of men; which opinion, if propounded to him, Rokesmithwould probably not have contested.

The newly-married pair left early, so that they might walk atleisure to their starting-place from London, for Greenwich. Atfirst they were very cheerful and talked much; but after a while,Bella fancied that her husband was turning somewhat thoughtful.So she asked him:

'John dear, what's the matter?'

'Matter, my love?'

'Won't you tell me,' said Bella, looking up into his face, 'what youare thinking of?'

'There's not much in the thought, my soul. I was thinkingwhether you wouldn't like me to be rich?'

'You rich, John?' repeated Bella, shrinking a little.

'I mean, really rich. Say, as rich as Mr Boffin. You would likethat?'

'I should be almost afraid to try, John dear. Was he much thebetter for his wealth? Was I much the better for the little part Ionce had in it?'

'But all people are not the worse for riches, my own.'

'Most people?' Bella musingly suggested with raised eyebrows.

'Nor even most people, it may be hoped. If you were rich, forinstance, you would have a great power of doing good to others.'

'Yes, sir, for instance,' Bella playfully rejoined; 'but should Iexercise the power, for instance? And again, sir, for instance;should I, at the same time, have a great power of doing harm tomyself?'

Laughing and pressing her arm, he retorted: 'But still, again forinstance; would you exercise that power?'

'I don't know,' said Bella, thoughtfully shaking her head. 'I hopenot. I think not. But it's so easy to hope not and think not, withoutthe riches.'

'Why don't you say, my darling--instead of that phrase--beingpoor?' he asked, looking earnestly at her.

'Why don't I say, being poor! Because I am not poor. Dear John,it's not possible that you suppose I think we are poor?'

'I do, my love.'

'Oh John!'

'Understand me, sweetheart. I know that I am rich beyond allwealth in having you; but I think OF you, and think FOR you. Insuch a dress as you are wearing now, you first charmed me, and inno dress could you ever look, to my thinking, more graceful ormore beautiful. But you have admired many finer dresses this veryday; and is it not natural that I wish I could give them to you?'

'It's very nice that you should wish it, John. It brings these tears ofgrateful pleasure into my eyes, to hear you say so with suchtenderness. But I don't want them.'

'Again,' he pursued, 'we are now walking through the muddystreets. I love those pretty feet so dearly, that I feel as if I could notbear the dirt to soil the sole of your shoe. Is it not natural that Iwish you could ride in a carriage?'

'It's very nice,' said Bella, glancing downward at the feet inquestion, 'to know that you admire them so much, John dear, andsince you do, I am sorry that these shoes are a full size too large.But I don't want a carriage, believe me.'

'You would like one if you could have one, Bella?'

'I shouldn't like it for its own sake, half so well as such a wish forit. Dear John, your wishes are as real to me as the wishes in theFairy story, that were all fulfilled as soon as spoken. Wish meeverything that you can wish for the woman you dearly love, and Ihave as good as got it, John. I have better than got it, John!'

They were not the less happy for such talk, and home was not theless home for coming after it. Bella was fast developing a perfectgenius for home. All the loves and graces seemed (her husbandthought) to have taken domestic service with her, and to help her tomake home engaging.

Her married life glided happily on. She was alone all day, for,after an early breakfast her husband repaired every morning to theCity, and did not return until their late dinner hour. He was 'in aChina house,' he explained to Bella: which she found quitesatisfactory, without pursuing the China house into minuter detailsthan a wholesale vision of tea, rice, odd-smelling silks, carvedboxes, and tight-eyed people in more than double-soled shoes, withtheir pigtails pulling their heads of hair off, painted on transparentporcelain. She always walked with her husband to the railroad,and was always there again to meet him; her old coquettish ways alittle sobered down (but not much), and her dress as daintilymanaged as if she managed nothing else. But, John gone tobusiness and Bella returned home, the dress would be laid aside,trim little wrappers and aprons would be substituted, and Bella,putting back her hair with both hands, as if she were making themost business-like arrangements for going dramatically distracted,would enter on the household affairs of the day. Such weighingand mixing and chopping and grating, such dusting and washingand polishing, such snipping and weeding and trowelling andother small gardening, such making and mending and folding andairing, such diverse arrangements, and above all such severe study!For Mrs J. R., who had never been wont to do too much at home asMiss B. W., was under the constant necessity of referring foradvice and support to a sage volume entitled The Complete BritishFamily Housewife, which she would sit consulting, with herelbows on the table and her temples on her hands, like someperplexed enchantress poring over the Black Art. This, principallybecause the Complete British Housewife, however sound a Britonat heart, was by no means an expert Briton at expressing herselfwith clearness in the British tongue, and sometimes might haveissued her directions to equal purpose in the Kamskatchanlanguage. In any crisis of this nature, Bella would suddenlyexclaim aloud, 'Oh you ridiculous old thing, what do you mean bythat? You must have been drinking!' And having made thismarginal note, would try the Housewife again, with all her dimplesscrewed into an expression of profound research.

There was likewise a coolness on the part of the British Housewife,which Mrs John Rokesmith found highly exasperating. She wouldsay, 'Take a salamander,' as if a general should command a privateto catch a Tartar. Or, she would casually issue the order, 'Throw ina handful--' of something entirely unattainable. In these, theHousewife's most glaring moments of unreason, Bella would shuther up and knock her on the table, apostrophising her with thecompliment, 'O you ARE a stupid old Donkey! Where am I to getit, do you think?'

Another branch of study claimed the attention of Mrs JohnRokesmith for a regular period every day. This was the masteringof the newspaper, so that she might be close up with John ongeneral topics when John came home. In her desire to be in allthings his companion, she would have set herself with equal zealto master Algebra, or Euclid, if he had divided his soul betweenher and either. Wonderful was the way in which she would storeup the City Intelligence, and beamingly shed it upon John in thecourse of the evening; incidentally mentioning the commoditiesthat were looking up in the markets, and how much gold had beentaken to the Bank, and trying to look wise and serious over it untilshe would laugh at herself most charmingly and would say, kissinghim: 'It all comes of my love, John dear.'

For a City man, John certainly did appear to care as little as mightbe for the looking up or looking down of things, as well as for thegold that got taken to the Bank. But he cared, beyond allexpression, for his wife, as a most precious and sweet commoditythat was always looking up, and that never was worth less than allthe gold in the world. And she, being inspired by her affection,and having a quick wit and a fine ready instinct, made amazingprogress in her domestic efficiency, though, as an endearingcreature, she made no progress at all. This was her husband'sverdict, and he justified it by telling her that she had begun hermarried life as the most endearing creature that could possibly be.

'And you have such a cheerful spirit!' he said, fondly. 'You are likea bright light in the house.'

'Am I truly, John?'

'Are you truly? Yes, indeed. Only much more, and much better.'

'Do you know, John dear,' said Bella, taking him by a button of hiscoat, 'that I sometimes, at odd moments--don't laugh, John,please.'

Nothing should induce John to do it, when she asked him not to doit.

'--That I sometimes think, John, I feel a little serious.'

'Are you too much alone, my darling?'

'O dear, no, John! The time is so short that I have not a momenttoo much in the week.'

'Why serious, my life, then? When serious?'

'When I laugh, I think,' said Bella, laughing as she laid her headupon his shoulder. 'You wouldn't believe, sir, that I feel seriousnow? But I do.' And she laughed again, and something glistenedin her eyes.

'Would you like to be rich, pet?' he asked her coaxingly.

'Rich, John! How CAN you ask such goose's questions?'

'Do you regret anything, my love?'

'Regret anything? No!' Bella confidently answered. But then,suddenly changing, she said, between laughing and glistening:'Oh yes, I do though. I regret Mrs Boffin.'

'I, too, regret that separation very much. But perhaps it is onlytemporary. Perhaps things may so fall out, as that you maysometimes see her again--as that we may sometimes see her again.'Bella might be very anxious on the subject, but she scarcelyseemed so at the moment. With an absent air, she wasinvestigating that button on her husband's coat, when Pa came into spend the evening.

Pa had his special chair and his special corner reserved for him onall occasions, and--without disparagement of his domestic joys--was far happier there, than anywhere. It was always pleasantlydroll to see Pa and Bella together; but on this present evening herhusband thought her more than usually fantastic with him.

'You are a very good little boy,' said Bella, 'to come unexpectedly,as soon as you could get out of school. And how have they usedyou at school to-day, you dear?'

'Well, my pet,' replied the cherub, smiling and rubbing his handsas she sat him down in his chair, 'I attend two schools. There's theMincing Lane establishment, and there's your mother's Academy.Which might you mean, my dear?'

'Both,' said Bella.

'Both, eh? Why, to say the truth, both have taken a little out of meto-day, my dear, but that was to be expected. There's no royal roadto learning; and what is life but learning!'

'And what do you do with yourself when you have got yourlearning by heart, you silly child?'

'Why then, my dear,' said the cherub, after a little consideration, 'Isuppose I die.'

'You are a very bad boy,' retorted Bella, 'to talk about dismal thingsand be out of spirits.'

'My Bella,' rejoined her father, 'I am not out of spirits. I am as gayas a lark.' Which his face confirmed.

'Then if you are sure and certain it's not you, I suppose it must beI,' said Bella; 'so I won't do so any more. John dear, we must givethis little fellow his supper, you know.'

'Of course we must, my darling.'

'He has been grubbing and grubbing at school,' said Bella, lookingat her father's hand and lightly slapping it, 'till he's not fit to beseen. O what a grubby child!'

'Indeed, my dear,' said her father, 'I was going to ask to be allowedto wash my hands, only you find me out so soon.'

'Come here, sir!' cried Bella, taking him by the front of his coat,'come here and be washed directly. You are not to be trusted to doit for yourself. Come here, sir!'